Father
by GothChickSupremo
Summary: Remember when Olivia found out that her father called her but her mother answered? Well, what if she had answered instead? (Also available on Wattpad)
1. I

**So I'm trying something a little unusual here and writing this from the POV of Joseph Hollister, Olivia's father. Hope you like it!**

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 **Hollister Household, 1984**

It's been sixteen years.

I don't know why I so desperately want to hear this girl's voice, to know that she actually exists even though I can so clearly see her in those pictures.

My eyes shift to the newspaper clipping clasped between my fingers and I bite down on the inside of my cheek, taking in every single detail of the girl who is somehow my daughter. _Homecoming Queen_. My child was homecoming queen and I missed it. I missed everything. Her birth, her first steps, first words, first day of school, first boyfriend, first breakup...

Why do I even care? I didn't care about her mother when I was raping her. I didn't care that she continuously begged me to stop. She didn't deserve what I did to her and I don't deserve to be there for my daughter. Lord, I can only imagine what Serena has had to go through, having to raise a child that would remind her of the worst day of her life. But the one I feel the most sympathy for is the girl. I wonder if she even knows what happened... I wonder how her mother treats her... Does she abuse the faultless child whom I forced upon her?

That thought sends shivers down my spine and I hate it. I hate that I care so much for a child I only found out existed a few months ago, a child that I didn't want. That her mother didn't want. That nobody wants. Another wave of guilt hits me at the thought of no one wanting this innocent young girl and that's why I have to do this. I have to call her, I have to let her know that I'm out there. That however fucked up it may sound, I do care. So I punch in the numbers on the telephone and lift the handset from its cradle, my now shaking hand pressing it against my left ear. It rings three times and I'm sure that no one is going to answer until suddenly I can hear the phone being picked up followed by the faint sound of... Crying?

"Hello?" The voice asks and it causes my heart to tighten in my chest. It's her's, it has to be her's. My mouth hangs open as I listen to her try to control her breathing and I search for something to say, anything to let her know that I'm here. It's when I hear her repeat the word with an air of annoyance that I finally speak up.

"Is this Olivia Benson?" My voice sounds much more calm than I actually feel and I look back down at the picture, trying to imagine this gorgeous, smiling girl with the tear laced voice on the phone.

"Yes... Who is this?" There's hesitation in her voice now but she doesn't sound as upset as she did previously, which is a good sign. But I find myself unable to respond to her question, afraid that the answer will frighten the girl. _Just say it_. I clamp my eyes shut and let out a shaky breath.

"I'm your father." I whisper into the handset, my eyes slipping shut as a heavy weight seems to have been lifted from my chest after the confession. There's almost complete silence coming from the other end of the receiver, the only sound being her soft breathing that seems to have once again quickened.

"Y-you... How did you get this number?" Her voice is sharp and it's clear that she's quickly gotten over the shock and is now beyond angry. I look at the slip of paper laying on the table that I cut out of the phonebook which reads the name Serena Benson, along with a number. I remember going through what felt like hundreds of those books before finally finding the information I needed to make this extremely nerve wracking call.

"I found it in the phonebook." I answer quickly, waiting once again through another moment of silence before she continued. "Why are you- god I don't even know what to say... Why are you calling us?" I can hear the hurt in her voice now even though she's attempting to hide it with anger and for some reason, it causes a sharp pain in my chest.

"I only found out you existed a few months ago, when I saw you in the paper and I... I needed to hear your voice. To know that you're real." It sounds stupid and I know it but it's also the honest truth. A part of me wishes that she was standing in front of me so that I could see her reactions to all of this but another part of me is glad that she isn't here, because I'm sure that I would've gotten attacked by now.

"I'm-I don't... I don't understand. Why would you care about the child of a woman you raped?" I can tell that she's trying to remain calm now and I sigh, rubbing my hand over my face whilst desperately searching for an answer to her extremely complex question.

But suddenly I don't have to find an answer because the horrifying sound of glass shattering from the other end of the phone interrupts my thinking.

 _"Livia, who the fuck are you talking to?!"_ Serena Benson screeches in the background and I'm pretty sure I heard Olivia drop the phone. I keep the handset pressed firmly against my ear as I listen to the distant conversation, my eyes widening slightly at the variety of profanities the woman is shouting at her daughter.

 _"God dammit Olivia Margaret Benson, if you're talkin to that boy again I'll kick your ass!"_

My eyes are now narrowed at the threat that was just thrown at the young girl and I find myself wondering how anyone could speak to a child in such a way. I know that after what I did to that woman I shouldn't be judging her but lord, I never thought she'd take it out on her own little girl.

 _"I swear it wasn't him mom, it's... It's no one!"_

Olivia sounds terrified at the prospect of her mother hurting her. I hear movement in the background and a muffled cry before the receiver is once again lifted, the sound on the other side being heavy, labored breathing.

"Who the hell is this?" Her words are slurred showing that she's clearly drunk and I don't want to answer, for fear that she might hurt the girl when she finds out who I am. But I can't find it in me to lie to the woman that I inflicted so much pain upon. "Serena, this is Joseph Hollister... I'm Olivia's father."

It sounded better then coming straight out and saying 'I'm your rapist' so I went with that, figuring that she would be able to put two and two together. Her response to the confession is exactly the same as her daughter's, for I am once again met with complete silence followed by unadulterated rage.

"You son of a bitch! You have the nerve to call my fucking house and then talk to _my_ daughter?! Don't ever call this number again, you hear me? And you better stay the fuck away from my little girl or I swear to god I'll kill you, you sick bastard!"

And then the line goes dead.

The handset remains locked in my grip as I stare down at the machine, trying to absorb everything that just happened in such a short amount of time. I heard my daughter's voice. Though it may have been filled with anger and pain, that doesn't necessarily matter at the moment, because I heard her. I spoke to her. But then Serena made her grand entrance and destroyed the entire moment. I'm pretty sure she hit Olivia, though I can't be completely certain. The mere thought of someone hurting that girl angers me and I...

I need to see her.

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 **I'd love it if you guys reviewed and told me how you feel about this story. I would also like to know if you want me to continue and what you want to happen if I do!**


	2. II

**Thank you to everyone who reviewed, you all inspire me to actually share my writing! Since the people who reviewed seemed to like how the first part was written, I figured I'd continue in the same fashion.**

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I remain quiet at the dinner table that night, my eyes focused on a spot on the checkered table cloth. Sharon, my beautiful wife who thankfully knows nothing of my past and our son of eleven years, Simon, sit on either side of me. He is going on about all that he learned in school today as his mother listens, commenting every once in awhile. I think he's talking about space, but I cannot bring myself to focus on the conversation because I'm still rattled from the phone call I made a little over three hours ago. I just can't get _her_ out of my head. Her soft, almost lilting voice that clashed vividly with that of her mother's slurred and fury filled timber. The sound of glass shattering, the sudden absence of her warmth that had been radiating through the receiver. I can't stop wondering what happened after the line went dead.

 _Is she hurt? Did Serena go off on her? I shouldn't have called. Why did I call? It only opened old wounds, maybe even deepened them..._

"Joe?" My wife's voice penetrates my train of thought, my eyes shifting away from the tablecloth to look at her. I must have missed something important because they both look as if they expect me to answer a question.

"I'm sorry, what did you say Sher?" I inquire politely, refocusing all of my attention on my wife and son. She stares at me with a cocked eyebrow before shaking her head and nodding to young Simon.

"Our boy says he wants to be an astronaut, Joe. What do you think?" She questions, a small smile playing on her lips.

My gaze shifts to the boy next to me, whom has a wide smile on his face and appears to have not brushed his hair this morning- _again._ I love this boy with all my heart but lord, sometimes I just wish I had a daughter.

 _Dammit Joseph, you do have a daughter!_

"You know what son? I think that if you work real hard and use that big brain of yours, you'll become one helluva astronaut. Maybe you'll even go to the Moon, or Mars!" I exclaim, a certain happiness filling my heart at the excitement that's glistening in my boy's eyes. I'm quite certain that Simon won't become an astronaut, mostly because he's eleven and has no idea how hard it actually is, but there's no need to tell him that.

We remain at the table for about half an hour, listening to Simon carry on about solar systems and galaxies before finally cleaning up. I can tell by the look in my wife's eyes that she wants to talk to me, so I send our son off to bed and turn towards her once his door it shut.

"Joseph, what's going on? You haven't been here all night, you're somewhere in... _There._ " She says as she steps towards me, pointing towards my head. I suppress a sigh, trying to decide whether or not to tell her about my long lost daughter and the phone call I made to her this afternoon. _Perhaps I could just tell her about the girl, but not about how she came to be._

"I have to show you something, Sharon." I mutter as I enter the living room, making sure she's followed me before opening the drawer in the table besides the sofa. I pull out the newspaper clippings along with the slip I tore from the phone book and place them on the coffee table for her to see. Slowly, she lowers herself down next to me on to the sofa, staring at the information splayed out in front of her. She remains silent for a few moments before grasping one of the pictures- the exact one I held earlier- and gazes at the young woman displayed in it, dawning a gorgeous gown along with her homecoming sash.

"She's beautiful." Sharon remarks quietly, taking in the image before turning to look at me. I can see the question in her eyes even before she asks it, but I refuse to give an answer unless she requests one.

"Who is she?"

And there it is. The overwhelmingly loaded question that somehow has such a simple answer. But I can't say it, because telling someone would make it real. It would mean that people, other than yourself or the two women you spoke with today, would know the truth. That seems almost as terrifying as actually speaking to my child.

"Sharon, this... This is Olivia Benson." I say quietly as I remove the clipping from her hands, carefully tracing the pad of my thumb over the soft paper. "She's my daughter." I whisper in a voice so faint that for a moment, I'm sure she didn't hear me. But it's clear that she has when I look over at her and see the shock etched into her features. I need to make up something fast, give her a reasonable explanation as to how this is all possible. But I cannot, whatsoever, tell her the truth.

"I dated her mother, Serena, back in sixty seven and... Well I only found out a few months ago that I got her pregnant." I explain quickly, trying to make it as believable as possible. Thankfully it seems to work and she nods in understanding, her eyes moving to the paper that I tore from the phone book.

"Have you visited her? Called her?" She asks whilst picking the paper up from the glass table, staring at the number and address typed onto the paper in fine print.

"I called her earlier today, that's why I was so distracted at dinner." I confess, telling the truth though it is a bit vague. I was mostly distracted because of the manner of the call along with the way it ended.

"I spoke to her for a moment before her mother went off on me, told me to never call again. You see Serena and I, we didn't really get along." _That's putting it lightly_ , I muse to myself as my wife reads over the address.

"Well maybe you should visit her sometime. I'm pretty sure this address is in Manhattan, which isn't too far away..." She hands me the paper and I nod, biting down on the inside of my cheek so hard that I can taste iron.

I want to actually meet Olivia, more than I probably should. I want to meet her in real life, to know if she's actually as beautiful as she appears to be in the pictures. But when she sees me, when she figures out who I am, I'm not so sure that she'll be willing to talk to me. Maybe I could convince her, maybe if I tell her everything upfront she'll give me a chance... A chance that I really don't deserve.

"I don't know Sher... I don't think she'd want to speak to me, considering the fact that I've never been there for her." I say quietly, my fingers running over the address displayed on the paper. My wife heaves a heavy sigh, her hand grasping my shoulder and giving it a gentle squeeze.

"Joe, I couldn't imagine what it's like to not have a father, though I'm sure it's... It's hard. She may hate you at first, she'll probably yell at you and tell you to go away but deep down, she'll be happy that you're there. That you know she exists and that you care about her." She speaks softly, her slender fingers carefully smoothing out my wrinkled work shirt. I turn to look into her eyes before staring at the picture on the coffee table, my mind slowly beginning to make itself.

"You're right Sher. I haven't been there for her for the past sixteen years, I guess the least I can do is let her know I'm here now." I say, gathering up the newspaper clippings and replacing them in the drawer before closing it. I stand up along side my wife and she smiles at me, giving me a reassuring nod as we head off to our bedroom.

Upon entering the room, I place the slip of paper from the phone book on my bed side table to ensure that I don't forget it in the morning. As I shed my day clothes and grab my sleep attire from my closet I begin thinking about tomorrow. A smile appears on my face at the thought of actually meeting the young woman in the pictures, of being able to see her and speak to her. Maybe, if I'm lucky, I'll be able to hold the girl the way that a father should hold their child.

And so I will fall asleep tonight, with the hopes and promises of tomorrow.

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 **Well there you go, Joseph is going to meet his daughter! How will Olivia react to seeing her father?**

 **Find out next week, same Benson time, same Benson channel.**


	3. III

**Thank you to everyone who is keeping up with this story and reviewing, you're my motivation to continue writing!**

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I'm not quite sure exactly how long I've been waiting out here, but I do know that when I got here it was light out.

Now, as I sit in my car, staring at the apartment building across the street, the only light that surrounds me is the artificial illumination of Manhattan that brightens the darkness of night. And I still haven't seen her. When I first arrived, it was relatively late into the morning so I'd figured that Olivia would have been in school. But now, this far into the night, I find myself worried for a girl I've never even met.

My eyes carefully examine every person whom walks upon the sidewalk across the street, searching for the youthful face that, after looking at her picture, I practically know by heart. Time is passing at an agonizingly slow rate, though my anxiety seems to skyrocket by the minute. It's when she finally catches my eye that everything around me seems to freeze.

Her dark hair is curled to frame her features, her dark eyes seeming to glow beneath the bright street lamps that line the sidewalk. The outfit she's wearing, an almost too short tight fitting black dress, is a stifling contrast to the long pink gown she wore in the newspaper. I don't have much time to wonder why on earth she's wearing such a scandalous garment because she's getting close, so close to the steps leading up to her apartment building and I have to move. _Now_.

My car door swings open and shuts just as quickly. My legs carry me across the street, thankful that there doesn't appear to be much traffic tonight. And my voice calls her name just as she's about to push the door open.

The girl jumps, her body spinning around until her wide chocolate colored eyes connect with mine, which just so happen to be the exact same color. She takes a step back, clearly confused as to why some strange man just yelled her name in the middle of the night. I move forward, stopping when I reach the center of the staircase and I hold my hands up, a gesture meant to show that I mean no harm. She looks as thought she's frozen in place, her back flanking the glass door of the apartment building incase she needs a quick escape.

"Who are you?" She inquires sternly, her once terrified eyes narrowing as she stares me down. I climb the stairs until I reach the top, now standing only a few feet away from my daughter. I know I need to explain, and I need to explain fast.

"The... The man that called you yesterday, the one that said he's your father..." I hesitate for a moment, watching her closely as emotions suddenly begin to flicker within her eyes.

"That was me... I'm him... Your father."

She's staring at me and the intensity of her gaze is so acute, that I'm fairly certain she is staring directly into my soul. I can tell by the shift in her body language that she's going into fight or flight mode, both of which will not help me in the slightest, so I begin to speak again.

"I know that I shouldn't be here, that I shouldn't be talking to you but I just... I had to see you. And I wanted you to know that I'm not the same man who raped your mother sixteen years ago." I say with as much sincerity as I can muster, because lord I need her to believe me. I hear her expel a shaky breathe, her eyes softening slightly as she presses her palms against the glass door.

"I... I can't do this, not right now." She says quietly, turning her head to the side to avoid my gaze. I feel a knot form in my stomach as I realize that she doesn't want to speak to me, hell she probably doesn't want anything to do with me-

"I work at that café down the street every weekend. Come in at around one, tomorrow."

Then, instantly after saying the words, she disappeared into the apartment building. I'm stunned, to say the least. Of course I had hoped that she would let me talk to her, but I didn't actually think that she would say _yes_.

"Okay." I whisper to myself as I make my way back down the steps, walking to my car in a sort of daze. As soon as I shut my car door I'm hit with the severity of what just happened. My daughter, my little girl, just said that she would talk to me.

At that café.  
Tomorrow.  
At one.

I smile at the thought, the corners of my mouth turning upward even further when I pass the small corner café. I stop my car in front of it for a moment so that I can remember it in great detail. Then, as I begin the short drive back to my house, I think about her.

She's definitely beautiful, almost an exact replica of her mother, well what I can remember of her. But she has those eyes that I stare into every time I pass a mirror, the eyes that I've grown to hate... And if I hate them, I could only imagine how much Serena Benson hates them.

 _No._ I can't think like that. I can't allow myself to wonder what the two of them have had to go through over the last sixteen years- the pain, the anger... It's too much.

Instead of focusing on the bad, I decide to turn to the bright side of this somewhat grim situation. I'll get to be there for my daughter, to explain everything to her and get to know all that's happened in her life so far.

I wish I could've known that Olivia began sobbing in the stairwell leading up to her apartment, or that upon entering her home she had to sneak past her mother, who was passed out on the couch once again. I wish I could have been there for her when she hugged a pillow to her face to muffle a scream before crying herself to sleep.

 _I wish_.

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 **I'm sorry that this one was a little shorter than the previous chapters, but I wanted to get their first face to face meeting done so that I could get to the good stuff.**

 **Thanks for reading, please tell me what you think!**


	4. IV

**I apologize for not updating for a while, I was busy with school and all. Also, this chapter was somewhat difficult for me to write, so I apologize if it's not what you thought it would be. I tried my best.**

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 **Cafe Gitane, 1984**

The small cafe seems so much more alive now than it did last night. People walk in and out, most of them being teenagers except for the elderly couple sitting at an umbrella table outside. Through the window I can see my daughter diligently working behind the counter, a broad smile gracing her features as she speaks to a customer. I bite down on the inside of my cheek, looking down at my watch, the face reading 1:04. When I look back up, I find myself staring directly into my daughter's eyes, the only thing diving us being a few inches of glass. Her smile visibly falters and she turns to a young man working on the coffee machine, whispering something into his ear before disappearing through a door. My gaze adverts to my feet as I wait for her to approach me and my mind begins racing a mile a minute, conjuring up possible scenarios for the upcoming conversation.

 _She'll probably just come out here and scream at me, tell me everything I deserve to hear; I'm a pathetic excuse for a human being, I should rot in hell, I-_

"Hey."

I jump when I hear her voice, my head jerking upwards to meet her gaze. She holds a coffee out towards me and I accept it, my hands still visibly shaking from the shock of her sudden appearance. We sit down at one of the tables set up outside, both of us remaining completely silent for what seems like an eternity. I want to say something to ease the tension, but my mind seems to have completely stopped functioning. Olivia, on the other hand, seems to know exactly what she wants to say.

"Do you know how much damage you've done?"

Her voice is calm, but the words feel like a scalding knife being thrust into my heart. I do, I know how much pain I've caused her and her mother, I just can't bring myself to admit it to her. Thankfully, she doesn't seem to want me to answer.

"My mother is an alcoholic. She was drunk the other day, when we were talking on the phone and she... She threw a glass at the wall."

Her eyes are trained on the coffee in front of her and I can see the emotion in those dark irises, the pain and the anger and the sadness all swirling together.

"She's never really hurt me, not physically. She only does that when its _really_ bad, but usually she just yells at me... Tells me that I look just like you."

A humorless, almost bitter laugh slips past her lips and she looks up at me, as if to gage how correct her mother's remark is. I do the same, my eyes examining every single detail, even things as trivial as a single freckle. She does not look like me in the slightest. Everything, from skin color to bone structure, is an obvious contrast to my physical characteristics...

Except for those eyes. The eyes staring back at me are an exact replica of my own and it's a strange feeling, almost as if I'm looking into a mirror... Well, if I was a sixteen year old girl.

"She tried to leave me at Madison Square Garden one time, when I was seven, and that... That was fun."

I blink a few times, my focus turning to the grim conversation afoot. _Serena tried to intentionally loose her daughter?_ Now that's... That's cruel.

"I was upset then, of course, but after she told me about you... Something just clicked, you know? For the first time in my life, I understood why. Why she drinks so much, why she's never so much as hugged me, why we never celebrate my birthday... I get it now, that it's because I'm apart of the worst day of her life."

Her gaze is now fully trained on my eyes, her words causing a heaviness to press down against my chest, almost making it hard to breathe despite the fact that we're outside. The sheer power of her words, the intense hurt and fury packed into them is close to being too much to handle. I can see that her hands are tightly gripping the mug in front of her, that her knuckles have turned sheet white and that her fingernails are nearly digging into the ceramic cup caught in her vice grip.

"But now there's so much more I need to understand, like why did you... _How could you_? How could you inflict that pain on another human being?" She practically hisses at me. Her demeanor seems to have changed dramatically, the once calm and level headed expression she wore at the start of this conversation now having been all but obliterated. The rage is glittering within her deep brown eyes and she is very obviously glaring at me, waiting for the answer that I cannot even begin to give. But, nonetheless, it must be given.

"I was young, when it happened. I didn't know how to control my rage or my... desire... I had to let it all out on someone, so I'd deliver the food from our company to the colleges and... And I'd follow the students that worked there when they went home-" My voice falters subconsciously, as if my vocal cords are as guilt stricken as the rest of my body is. "I-It happened four times, but the feelings never went away. They only got worse after every time, because of the guilt... I guess it just started to become too much."

I can't look her in the eye when I tell her all of this because I know that if I do, the only thing I'll see is repulsion. I don't blame her though, because that's exactly what I've felt towards myself for the past sixteen years.

"I went to a doctor back in sixty nine, when I was at my worst, and he gave me medication for insomnia and depression... Ever since then, I haven't felt the urges. But I still feel the guilt, and god I hate myself every day for what I did but... When I saw you in that paper, I... I couldn't believe that you were real."

My eyes shift from their hold on the mug and turn upwards to stare directly into her's. The stare before me is blank, completely unreadable, and I begin to wonder how long it took her to perfect that look.

"Being angry at the world doesn't excuse what you did." She says quietly, her eyes seeming to search mine as she speaks, "I'm angry at you, for what you did to my mother, to those other women. And yet..." Her voice tappers off and I can see something shift in her eyes, though I'm not quite sure exactly what it is. "I can't find it in myself to hate you. I've thought about this so many times throughout my life, I planned out exactly what I would say if I ever saw you... But you're here and I... For some reason, I can't say those things." She turns her head down for a moment, her slender fingers raking through her long dark hair before she looks at me again. I can tell she's having trouble with speaking to me, that she's practically stumbling over herself trying to figure out what to do.

"I've wanted a dad for so long, ever since Amy Fitzgerald asked me why I didn't have a daddy back in the first grade... I saw the other girls with their parents... they all looked so... _Happy_... And my mom, she... She was- _is_ \- always so miserable... I know she loves me, I do, but god, I'd give anything to have what those kids have." She whispers tearfully, the pain of being neglected and so thoroughly unloved cracking through the blank facade.

"You just wanted a family."

We both fall silent after the words tumble from my mouth, a mutual understanding seeming to pass between us as we continue to look into each other's eyes. I know exactly how she feels, and it hurts to know that she's had to go through so much in her short life. I have to make it up to her, I have to help her.

"That's all I ever wanted when I was a kid, too. My dad was an alcoholic, he'd beat my mother and I senseless whenever he was drunk. She ended up killing herself and... God I was only eleven, and she left me with that son of a bitch... That's why I did what I did, I was so angry and I had to take it out on someone, but once I got my shit together... Every day I live with the pain my parents caused and the guilt of what I did to those women, but I managed to change my life. I don't want you to turn into me, Olivia. I don't want you to have to change your life like I did."

I can see how hesitant she is and it nearly shatters my heart to realize that at such a young age she is unable to trust anyone. But I can only blame myself, if I hadn't raped Serena Benson and brought this girl into the world, she wouldn't have had to suffer, she wouldn't have to know the violence and depravity that exists in this world. _No,_ I can't think like that. This girl, this beautiful young woman, deserves to have a family and to be happy, no matter how awful her beginning turned out to be. However, I have a feeling she doesn't believe that.

"Please. Please just, let me be in your life. Let me be here for you, I'll do anything just... Please."

 _"Okay."_

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 **Once more, this was extremely hard for me to write and I'm honestly not that happy with it, but I needed to get it up so that I could move on to the next part of the story. Again, I apologize if it isn't what you were hoping for.**

 **IMPORTANT A/N: The next chapter will most likely be set a year after this one, for plot line purposes, and I might write it from Olivia's POV.**


	5. V

**I decided to write this chapter from Olivia's POV, and I've also set it about a year after the previous one. It's really just a filler before the shit hits the proverbial fan...**

 **Enjoy!**

 **Benson Apartment, 1985**

It's been nearly a year since I first met my father.

My father.

I never thought it would actually happen, I'd always just assumed that I would only ever know what my mother has told me about him; that he's a monster. But now, after speaking to him and getting to know the man, I honestly cannot imagine him committing such a heinous crime.

He's told me everything about his life, about his wife Sharon and their now twelve year old son Simon. He even asked me if I'd like to meet them someday, perhaps come over for dinner sometime and see the rest of my 'family' in the flesh. And I would honestly love to meet the both of them, but I can't help feeling that this whole situation is an enormous betrayal towards my mother.

If she ever found out, I have no doubt in my mind that she would murder both Joseph and I. It would destroy her, to know that her daughter is getting along with the man responsible for the worst day of her life- the conception of her little girl. Every single time I consider confessing to her, all I have to think about is how much it will absolutely crush her and I instantly shut my mouth.

On the bright side, things have actually started getting much better with our relationship. In fact, just last week she told me that she was trying to sober up so that she could come to my high school graduation. It makes me smile to think of my mother sitting out in the crowd, cheering for me as I accept my diploma. She also helped me pick out what college to go to, the both of us ultimately deciding on Sienna, which I was easily accepted into.

Everything seems perfect, my life seems to finally be going the right way. I've managed to convince myself that nothing, _nothing_ , can stop me now.

"Livia!" My mother's voice rings out through the apartment, the sound of her stilettos clacking against the hardwood following behind. I step out of my bedroom and hurry down the hall, smiling when I see my mother holding what seems like a million shopping bags. Now that she's sober, she's been working a lot more, which has resulted in many spontaneous shopping sprees.

"Oh lord mom, what on earth did you get today?" I ask as I take a few bags from her, setting them down on the kitchen table as she does the same.

"Well, I may or may not have bought my favorite daughter a graduation dress..."

And with that, she pulls a gorgeous black dress from one of her bags, holding it against herself so that I can see it clearly. It's simple, really, a fitted black dress that stops just above the knee, but I've never been a fan of sparkles and gemstones, so the simplicity captivates me. I step forward, running a hand over the soft fabric of the garment, my dark eyes shifting upwards to meet my mother's lighter irises. For the first time in a long time, I see true joy shining within them, and it causes my heart to swell.

"I love it mom." I murmur, wrapping my arms around her neck and pulling her into a tight embrace. I feel her body tense up for a split second, since we don't usually hug each other in such a way, but she quickly sets the dress aside and wraps her arms around me as well. I can't remember the last time my mother held me, though I've decided that I like the warmth and the love that radiates from the display of affection.

"Olivia Margaret Benson, you know I love you, right?"

My mother just told me she loves me... My mother loves me, she said it, that she loves me. The raw emotion in her voice, the sincerity and the underlying tone of guilt only makes me hug her tighter.

"I love you too mom." I whisper, suddenly pulling back so that I can look directly into her eyes. I remember when doing this used to bother her, that when our eyes met she would almost instantly advert her gaze so that she didn't have to see _him_. But now, it's as if she's finally convinced herself that I'm not him, that I'm her daughter who loves her unconditionally. And that feels good.

We both jump at the sound of the phone ringing and before my mother can reach for it, I pull away from her with a hand held up, "I got it mom." I say, nodding towards the bags still piled on the table "You take care of that."

Once she's out of the room I reach for the phone, pressing it against my ear. Now that I've been communicating with my father, I make sure that I'm the one who answers the phone every time it rings- just in case.

"Olivia?" His voice says from the other end, the sound of it causing a small smile to appear on my face.

"Hey Joe." I respond in a low voice, glancing back towards the hallway to make sure my mom is still in her room. It may seem strange, calling my father by his first name, but the thought of calling him dad still feels foreign to me. "I can't really talk right now, my mom just got home..."

"Oh, god I'm sorry, I called to ask you a question..."

"Well then you better make it fast!"

"Never mind, just meet me at the cafe tomorrow."

"Why-"

"It's a surprise!"

I pull the phone away from my ear when the line goes dead and I sigh, dropping the receiver back into its cradle. _A surprise? What the hell?_ I don't have much more time to process the information I've just received because the sound of my mother's heels clicking against the floor jolts me out of thought.

"Who called?" She asks as she moves back towards the table, lifting the dress she bought me off of it before looking over at me.

"Oh, it was just a telemarketer." I smile at her, nodding to the dress "Let's see how that thing looks off the hanger huh?"

 **Hope it wasn't too boring, tell me what you guys think!**


	6. VI

**A thousand apologies for the long wait, I've been working on a billion other fics and my mind has been all over the place. But anyway, enough about my stressful life, on with the show!**

* * *

 **Cafe Gitane, 1985**

"Liv? I thought you had today off, what the hell are you doin in this dump?"

I smile when I hear the voice of Joey Jefferson, the guy that I've been working with since the beginning of last year. He's a good person, not to mention an extremely gorgeous man, but my hope of being anything more than his friend diminished when he revealed to me that he isn't really into girls. Honest to god, he's nothing like the stereotypical gay guy.

"I'm meeting up with my dad, apparently he has a surprise for me." I say with a shrug, dropping into a seat behind the coffee bar.

"So Jo, any new men in your life? Gorgeous freaks, dashing kinks, charming brutes?" I inquire with a smirk, placing my elbow on the countertop and resting my chin in my palm. He leans forward from the other side, looking around as if someone were listening in on our conversation.

"Well I met a sexy hunk yesterday, I believe Elliot was his name. I would've said something but he's a good ol' choir boy, though he looked like a sex god..." Joey shakes his head and I laugh at the disappointment etched into his features. His eyes lift when a bell rings, signifying that a new customer has just entered the shop.

"Liv, pops at twelve o'clock... I think I know what your surprise is." He quips with a smirk.

I spin around, stunned to see my father standing just a few feet away with a dark haired woman and a boy who looks to be around twelve. I remember him talking about his family on multiple occasions, but seeing the three of them standing together in front of me is so surreal. It's hard to imagine my mother's rapist- _no-_ my father, with an actual family.

"Uh, Olivia..." He says, looking just about as awkward as I feel. "This is my wife, Sharon," he gestures to the woman next to him and she smiles at me kindly. There's a warmth radiating from her, one that I've never seen before, even in my own mother. "And this is our son, Simon." He ruffles the child's chestnut colored hair and I laugh at the annoyance on his youthful face.

"It's very nice to meet you both." I say with a bright smile, a _genuine_ smile.

"You guys want to sit down or are ya alright standin?" Joey quips from behind the counter. I spin around, playfully punching him in the shoulder.

"Don't be such a smart as-aleck!" I quickly correct myself, my face flushing in embarrassment when I remember that there's a child in the room. Both my father and his wife chuckle at my weak attempt to cover up the swear, giving my similar looks to let me know that their son has probably heard much worse.

Joey leads us to a table set for four, acting uncharacteristically chivalrous by pulling out a chair for Sharon and I. He throws an arrogant smile my way when the woman calls him a gentleman and I wrinkle my nose at him before lowering into my seat.

"Hey Simon, you want a hot chocolate or something?" I ask the boy, who's seated across from me at the table. His cheeks turn the most adorable shade of red and he looks up at our dad, who nods reassuringly.

"Yes please." He says in a nervous voice. I smile at him and turn to Joey, who looks like he just saw a puppy chase after a butterfly.

"You got it little man, and coffees for the three of you, on the house." He winks, hurrying away front the table to fix us our drinks. I look over at my dad, who raises an eyebrow at me quizzically.

"You two have a thing or..."

"No no no... Let's just say that Joey tends to swing the _other_ way." I state, hoping that he'll understand what I'm trying to say.

"Oh..."

"So, Sharon, how'd you meet my dad?" I quickly change the subject, looking at the beautiful woman beside me with genuine interest. Her eyes seem to brighten at the question and she turns to look at her husband. I'm shocked by the love that seems to pass between the two and I can't help the pang of envy that passes through me. _No one_ has ever looked at me like that, not my mother or any of the boyfriends I've had over the years. Hell, not even the first and only man that I have ever been intimate with has looked at me that way.

"I went to this bar, some hole in the wall in the Meat Packing District, with a few of my friends after college graduation and I see this handsome man sitting at the other side of the room with a couple of other guys. Exactly when I looked at him, he turned my way and when our eyes met... I don't know how to explain it, but I just knew. He buys me a drink... And another drink... Probably a few more after that." She laughs, shaking her head before continuing, "And everything after that is ancient history." She sighs softly and I notice that at some point in her story, their hands interlaced on top of the table.

"Wow..." I breathe, my eyes never lifting from their intertwined fingers. I jump when Joey sets a mug before me, grasping it in both of my hands and bringing the warm liquid to my lips.

"Simon," I say once I set my mug down, "What grade are you in?"

"Sixth." He responds softly, poking at one of the many miniature marshmallows that Joey so graciously put in his coco. "My favorite class is History. We're learning about World War I right now." He looks up at me then, "Dad told me you're good at math. I'm not, it confuses me." He shrugs, looking as if he were disappointed in himself.

"Well... If you want, I could help you."

"Really?"

"Of course! If you ever need me, just tell your dad and he'll call me."

"Gee, thanks Olivia." He says with a bright smile, appearing more comfortable in my presence now than he did only a minute ago.

The four of us converse for what seems like an eternity, Sharon telling me ridiculously hilarious stories about her husband, Joseph making a comment here and there while Simon and I merely laugh at their playful banter. I tell them all about my plans for after I graduate high school, how I've received acceptance letters from multiple colleges and my current struggle to decide which one to attend. I find myself focusing all of my attention on the woman next to me, who is talking about how wonderful the college she went to- Sienna- is. I'm so caught up in our conversation that I'm barely able to register Joey's voice from behind the counter.

"Shit, Liv, your mom is-" he gets cut off by the cafe's door flying open, the bell clanging violently against its glass.

In the doorway stands Serena Benson. Her clothes are rumpled. Her bright blue eyes are wide, glazed over from the alcohol she must have consumed before coming here. Her grey streaked blonde hair is pulled back into a clip with strands hanging loosely around her face and her hands... They're clenched into fists so tight that I'm sure her nails are cutting into her skin. She looks furious, almost deranged, like she could snap at any second...

"Olivia. Margaret. Benson."

* * *

 **DUN DUN DUNNNNN...**


	7. VII

**As I'm saying in basically all of my updates lately, I apologize for not having updated in awhile. I've been sick and just tired in general, but I am trying to keep up with all of my fics. We're back to Joe's point of view in this chapter, which I personally believe is pretty interesting since I've only ever read these types of scenes from either one of the Benson's POV or from Elliot's so... let's just hope its not terrible...**

* * *

 _"Olivia. Margaret. Benson."_

Even though the name doesn't belong to me, the sheer harshness of Serena Benson's voice causes my head to snap in her direction. I had feared that as soon as our eyes met she would charge at me, but it seems as though she hasn't even acknowledged my presence for her fiery gaze is trained on her daughter. I turn to Olivia then, finding that her body has gone rigid with fear and her face has been completely drained of any color.

"M-mom, what are you doing here?" Her voice trembles when she speaks, though she's tried hard to mask it. She's standing now and she casts a glance in my direction before slowly approaching her mother.

"You weren't home." Serena slurs bitterly. She lunges forwards and for a split second I'm sure she intends to strike her daughter, but instead she grasps the girl's wrist. "But I think the better question is what are _you_ doing here?" She seethes, yanking Olivia closer. An unexpected wave of protectiveness hits me and I nearly knock my chair over when I stand up, my hands clenching into fists. The sudden movement seems to catch the woman's attention because for the first time since she showed up she turns, looking directly into my eyes. Her grip on Olivia seems to tighten and her eyes go wide, nearly bulging out of their sockets.

"Oh my god..." Her voice has dropped significantly and it's immediately clear that she knows who I am. My mind flashes to my wife and son, remembering that they're sitting in this very room, quite possibly in danger of finding out who I once was. I grasp my wife's shoulder, guiding her out of the chair and into a standing position.

"Sher, please take Simon to the car." I state softly, avoiding Serena Benson's heated gaze. Sharon moves quickly, grabbing our son's hand and leading him to the door. I feel a small weight fall off of my shoulders when she brushes past the other woman, slipping through the glass doors of the cafe and hurrying towards the car. The three of us remain emerged in silence and though Olivia and I exchange looks every few seconds we both end up staring at her mother, who in turn is glaring at me.

"You," she breaks the silence, pointing a single jagged finger in my direction, "I told you I would kill you if you ever came near her." She repeats the threat she'd sent my way over the phone a little over a year ago and I have no doubt in my mind that she meant it; that she still means it.

"Mom, he hasn't hurt me-he hasn't done anything but be kind towards me. He's a good person." Olivia speaks softly towards her mother and she sounds almost as if she were speaking to a child.

" _A good person?_ " Serena echos the words, spitting them out as if they're poison, "Have you lost your mind?! He's a rapist Olivia! I've told you what he's done to me, how he ruined my life and now you're out playing happy family with him?" She stares at the girl, a look of disgust and absolute hatred shining within her pale blue eyes. Olivia, on the other hand, appears to be on the verge of tears.

"Why are you drunk, mom?" She asks offhandedly, though it is a very good question. From what I understood, Serena had been clean for quite sometime and was doing her best to be a good mother.

"I fell asleep on the couch and... I had a nightmare." Her voice has lowered to a hoarse whisper; her eyes are glassy, glazed over as if she were in some other world. "You weren't there when I woke up, you're always there Olivia..." There are tears in her eyes, sliding down her cheeks as her features twist with pain. She glances at me once more before drawing her daughter closer, wrapping her arms around the young woman in a tight embrace. "Come home. Please come home. I'm sorry for everything, I truly am but... You're all I have left Livia, I need you. Please don't leave me Livvy, _please_." The words are murmured into Olivia's dark hair but I can still hear them clearly and there's something in her voice, a possessiveness over her daughter that i'm certain is aimed at me. It's obvious in that instant what she is trying to do-she wants the girl to stay with her forever, no matter how miserable it may make her child in the long run. As soon as the younger Benson wraps her arms around her mother, I can tell that the begging has worked its magic.

"I won't leave mom, I promise." Olivia affirms, her voice as soothing as the comforting hand that comes to rub circles over her hysterical mother's back. "Come on," she pulls from the embrace, a tearful smile on her face, "let's go home." Her mother nods, keeping her head low as she turns toward the door.

"Olivia." I call her name once Serena has left, leaving only the two of us in the small room. She looks in my direction, her smile having disappeared and leaving only sadness in it's wake. "You don't have to stay with her, you know. You don't owe her anything." I take a few steps towards her until we're only a few feet apart. She chuckles bitterly, her dark eyes flitting upwards for a few seconds before she continues.

"Everyday, for the past seventeen years, my mother-the woman you raped-has had to look at my face and be reminded of the worst day of her life. I prevented her from being happy and now... Now i'm the only thing that can make her feel okay. So I do have to stay with her. I have to make sure that she's okay and that she doesn't drink herself into oblivion. I just have to." She turns away, moving to leave the room and ultimately leave me. But she pauses, spinning around and pulling me into a hug in one fluid motion. I hold her, my eyes fluttering shut as the realization that I will most likely never see or speak to her again finally hits me.

"I'm sorry." I say softly, pulling back to look at her one last time, memorizing ever single one of her features.

"So am I."

And then, just as quickly as she came, Olivia Benson is gone.


End file.
